A Penchant for the Shattered
by StardustandSnitches
Summary: Lucy Weasley and shattering expectations belong together like emeralds and silver. One shot. R&R please, and hope you like it! DISCLAIMER: All rights belong to J.K Rowling.


**Hallo everyone! Lucy is currently my favourite character in next gen, so I've tried writing her as I picture her. I think it's different from my usual writing style, but I really like to write this way. So any constructive criticism is appreciated! But no flames. I'm really proud of this one, and it makes me feel very…** _ **accomplished**_ **. Also, I'd love it if you could check out my other fics, especially the one on James Sirius. And Recensere is an ongoing story about Lily Evans. Anyways, I'll stop advertising and I hope you enjoy this one-shot!**

* * *

It's because you've got hindsight unlike the rest of the Weasley family, who seemed to be crashing and hurling through life at a _million_ kilometres per second, and just keep repeating the same pattern over and over again. You watch James fall for the clever Muggleborn, Victoire prove herself to be more than a pretty face, Molly being the one constant in everybody's wild life. But you're Lucy, what do you have to repeat?

It is rather perplexing, because then you're sorted into _Slytherin_ , which no Weasley has ever done before. You pretend not to see the slightly scared look on your father's face, and pretend not to notice the smirk on Audrey's, because you know that just being sorted into Slytherin has caused enough drama to last for the next few decades. The press gobbles it up, and for the first time, you're worthy of front page news in those _idiotic_ gossip magazines.

The press doesn't really _like_ acknowledging Percy, because of his betrayal and whatnot. Even the family labels Percy as boring, ambitious etc. etc., the _same_ adjectives overused too many times. But Molly definitely stands out, what with her high cheekbones and slender figure and _tumbling_ auburn curls. She's a secret keeper, she is, and a sort of agony aunt for everyone, keeping secrets but being an open book herself. She should have sorted into Hufflepuff, everyone says, but her ferocious temper and daredevil nature made the decision almost immediate. She is put into Gryffindor, and surpasses even her namesake.

But Lucy? Lucy who? Oh, Molly's younger sister? Audrey Grant- Weasley's daughter? You mean _Percy's_ daughter? I thought he had only one! Speaking of which, I was talking to…

And so it goes, every conversation keeps _repeating_ , the same rhythmic drum droning _on and on and on_ , until your cadences are just smudges in the grey background. You scream, you want to shout here I am! Listen to me! I'm bright, I'm a star who sparkles just as much as the others! But you're drowned out by the exploding supernovas around you.

Slytherin is alright, you suppose. At first, they're a bit weary of you, the deep chestnut standing out in the sea of platinum and mahoganies and chocolates. They expect you to jeer and label them murderers, and you wouldn't even be wrong to. But this is _your_ house, where everyone needs to band to together to deflect the stones thrown at them, lest they damage their pristine reputation, or _even_ worse, their human hearts guarded by armies of words, smirks and sly plans.

The cousins take it _relatively_ well. They are horrified of course, their reactions ranging from Teddy's kind reassurance that her family would still love her, to Molly's concerned looks to James' outright jeers. But none of them seemed to understand that maybe you don't _want_ to change, maybe you're _fine_ with being in Slytherin. That concept is as alien to them as Muggle Oreos, so they put it off as you trying to deal with this _horrible_ life.

But you, you don't _care_ , do you? You don't care about their opinions, their sweet words, they warm hugs. Because at the end of the day, they are just going to pat your head and continue living their second hand lives, exploding like supernovas, leaving only fragments of their _true_ selves behind, pieces of what they _could have_ been. They succumb to the world's expectations of them, taking the easy way out, instead of forging their own treacherous paths to happiness. Ironically enough, aren't _Slytherins_ supposed to be the ones doing that?

Now, you are at complete liberty to do _whatever_ you want. You don't even have to conform to the Slytherin stereotype, you are _an absolute anomaly._ So, what to do now?

That becomes your motto, breaking expectations in a whirlwind, leaving only traces of apprehension and nervousness, only for the keen- eyed to see. You are a Slytherin through and through, because after all, how could one expect _Gryffindors_ to hide their emotions for years and years? How could _Gryffindors_ love the thrill of flouting freedom in the _subtlest_ of ways, etched into minds forever, leaving them baffled at you?

You _finally_ understand why Slytherins don't like Gryffindors. Gryffindors conform to expectations of their house, because they couldn't care less if they tried. Their main goal is to live life through the seconds, be it at the edge of a cliff or a binding contract, _they will take the plunge_. They don't plan it through, think of the consequences, _nothing_. And while it might be a lot a fun, ninety percent of the time, they will become bitter and miserable and _broken_ , while Slytherins are the ones victorious at the end. They attempt to break _free_ of those expectations of their house and themselves, taking the challenge in a stride.

Slytherins are sometimes _more_ accepting than Gryffindors. You imagine what would have happened to Scorpius Malfoy had he been sorted into Gryffindor (highly unlikely), and it makes you _shudder_. Constant bullying and social ostracizing. But here you are, a _Weasley_ in Slytherin. What have they done to you? Nothing. In your opinion, your best friend Emily Baddock is _ten_ times the person Roxanne is.

You continue being more and more _Lucy_ , and less and less _Weasley_. In Hogwarts, you aren't _Molly's little sister_ ,or _Harry Potter's niece_ ,or _Percy Weasley and Audrey Grant's daughter._ You aren't even _the Weasley who got sorted into Slytherin_.You are witty Lucy, Slytherin Lucy, keeper Lucy, snarky Lucy.

You decide to forgive James for calling you a traitor, if only for the sake of breaking another expectation. You also kind of miss his loud and abrasive personality, but only will admit that to yourself. He gladly bounds back into your life in your third year, and you become _JamesandLucy_ , the dynamic duo again. You even help _him_ break a few expectations. He becomes friends with his long-time crush, Auden Campbell in their fourth year, and they start dating in the fifth.

Life goes on for you, and you blaze through it shining, the only soldier left in the battlefield. You occasionally check on your younger cousins, but not out of affection (they have the rest of Hogwarts for that), but more out of a sense of satisfaction. Because really, the only one you can stand right now is James. You haven't forgotten those years of your childhood spent ignored, where everyone favoured _every other relative but you_. Teddy because of his kindness and humour, Victoire and her siblings because of their _impossible_ elegance. Fred and Roxanne because of their easy stride and charming smiles, Molly because of her grace. And of course, how could _anyone_ ignore the children of the _Golden Trio_?

You watch as each of them fall, their Gryffindor bravery, Hufflepuff endurance and Ravenclaw intelligence failing them at their crucial moments. They turn into mere mortals, and no amount of bravado and charm can save them. They fall victim to their own monsters, projecting picture perfect poses, but _deep, deep_ inside, they fight a losing battle.

They ended up like this, you muse, because they didn't have hindsight. _You_ learned from your, _you_ got rid of any stereotype the _hoi polloi_ put on you. They didn't, they did it the _Weasley_ way, _expecting_ the world to be sunshine and laughter. It is joyful sometimes, but other times, it consumes you like Charybdis, inexplicably drawing you closer and closer until you are _sucked_ in, going under the waves of pressured reality and drowning as broken promises fill up your lungs. You _despise_ them, you don't want to be associated with them, you are tired of putting up those blinding fake smiles that no one sees through. And sometimes, _youjustwanttogiveup_.

You become this, this _version_ of yourself in your fourth year. It's this notorious prankster (you do it out of spite occasionally), this cool Slytherin who has the potential to take over the world (but you don't care right now), the girl who helps others (break expectations) in the oddest of ways. You stand in front of a mirror, and take a good long look at the girl with straight chestnut hair tied in a braid down her back with inky blue eyes. You take a look at splattering of freckles across your nose on your creamy skin. Your short stature slumps and you sit down with your head buried in your knees, and you feel _one_ tear leak out of your eye. That's it, just one, leaving a cold path behind it as it slides down the tip of your nose. No more come out, not even the hint of a drop.

But for the first time in _years_ , you want to _stop._ You want to stop trying to be two steps ahead of life, which is whizzing by faster than the speed of light. You want to give up and just love each and every one of your cousins, but you are so distant now you might as well have been strangers. But you _can't_ , it _isn't in your nature to._ You have the rage of an inferno, but you are a star. The only one left.

You have fallen victim to your own monster. You are in shock. You are panicking, you are floundering, you can trust _no one_. You are _alone._ There is no one to save you, no one can _love_ you because you have become _unrecognisable._ Your parents _barely_ talk to you, Molly doesn't even _try_ anymore, your cousins don't _care_ , Emily is an angel but she doesn't have _time_ for you, James doesn't want anything to _do_ with you, _you are alone._

 _Hot_ , _boiling_ hot tears cover every centimetre of your face. Despair, rage, anger, shame, anguish and a thousand other words that eventually mean _one_ thing _stream_ out of you, pouring out like sand in an hourglass _way_ too fast. It's like Pandora's box has been opened, wreaking havoc on mankind. Except this this time it's _you_ they're wreaking havoc on, and you go through a million different emotions that have been compressed into tiny insignificant things that didn't seem to matter at the time. But now the demons have come out, and they seek _revenge_. But Hope still remained.

Emily and Marissa Nott find you serenely sleeping on the floor sometime after dinner, tear tracks clearly visible on your skin. The mirror is shattered from where you sent a hex at it, and a shard is dangerously close to your face. They half carry you to your bed and remove your robes and tie, worry written on their faces. They assumed you were asleep, and you should've been, but Merlin knows that you've always been a light sleeper. You hear them whisper in anxious voices, about how distant you've been recently, how much they want to talk to you about it, and how much they _care_ about you, and _how much they miss you_. And, oh _Merlin_ , this is what pulled you out of you downward circle.

Because they _care_ about _you_ , you aren't _forgotten_. You are their friend.

You don't turn up for breakfast the next day, and are missing until you stagger into fifth period charms, eyes bloodshot and as dark as night. Your hair is a mess and your robes are worn inside out. But there's a bright, almost manic smile on your face as you sit down next to James who glares at you questioningly. This makes you feel better, and _special_ and all sorts of wonderful things. You walk into the library for a study session with Edgar Bones who looks _concerned_ that you're ten minutes late.

It's a wonderful, yet foreign feeling, and sometimes you wonder if it's all just a dream. But it feels like the opposite, as if you've opened your eyes to see that people _do_ notice you and _value_ you, even if it's not the people you expected. But you're a Slytherin for a reason, and if you want something, nothing can stop you from claiming it as your own.

Which is why the next morning you find yourself sliding into the seat next to a stunned Roxanne on the Ravenclaw table, "Good morning," you say, giving her your warmest smile.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, and don't forget to favourite and review! Love, StardustandSnitches.**


End file.
